


The Hunt After

by Darknessalwaysfalls



Series: Transgender and Older Sam [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Swap, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternative Plot, FTM Sam, FtM Transgender, Gen, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Gender or Sex Swap, Griffins, Hurt Sam Winchester, Mild Blood, Older Sam, POV Third Person, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Trans Sam Winchester, Transgender, Unhealthy methods of binding, Younger Dean, shifting pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3162929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darknessalwaysfalls/pseuds/Darknessalwaysfalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Transgender and older Sam universe timestamp: It is the first hunt after the deal and everything is good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hunt After

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't think you'll need to read the others to make sense of this fic but it might help. Furthermore, please never ever bind your chest with bandages. It can break your ribs and actually constrict your lungs and heart which can lead to developing other health issues. Buy a binder that fits instead and only wear it for the appropriate amount of time (6-9 hours). You are important and your identity is valid.  
> As always, your comments and advice are cherished!

This hunt wasn't unlike other hunts. It went along fine. The important thing to Sam was that Dean didn't get hurt this time. Other than the discovery that flying griffins were actually real, the only added complication was the other pair of hunters also on the case. The two men, Ron Oakson and Jack Dungan, were in their late thirties or early forties, white, bearded, and with an overly large helping of misogynistic and homophobic behavior. It was kind of ridiculous. Sam wouldn't put it past them to also be racist. They rubbed the Winchesters the wrong way, but the brothers had joined them on the hunt and the men knew more about the case than they did. 

"This thing is going after virgins like dragons do. Specifically, older than 20 virgins." Ron explained. 

"Okay, we could set up a trap with bait and-" Dean immediately began planning the schematics. Sam could see his brother's mind already coming up with the possible methods to trap the griffins. His own mind was piecing together the victims' profiles to determine who to ask to be bait. Maybe the priest at the church down the road. 

"What are you talking about? We aren't using a citizen! No way Winchester! They'll get in the way or get hurt." Jack butted into the conversation, his face already turning blotchy red in preparation for an argument. Sam tensed, his hand slipping into his jacket to curl around the handle of a knife. He didn't trust these hunters. They reminded him too much of the taunting drunks in small towns that made lewd comments and threats. Their almost nondescript typicalness seemed absurdly faceless to him, making his skin crawl with filth. But Dean didn't have the same reaction and his instincts were typically better. So they weren't suspects, but Sam was still uneasy. His protective instincts might just be in overload due to the failure of the last hunt.

"Calm down! I wasn't talking about using citizens." Dean said. Sam's brow creased in confusion. 

"Then who do you have in mind to play bait? Huh? None of us are virgins." Jack sneered. 

Dean looked at Sam. Sam calculated the territory of the griffin. There was no guarantee that it wouldn't hide or move once it found out hunters were in the area. For obvious reasons, baiting wouldn't work. Unless there was something else that could attract them other than virginity, Sam was sure that a Sam-baited trap would not work since he was certainly not pure enough unbeknownst to Dean. Although there was a chance that rubbing in sage might help since there was something about the sacrifices carrying the herb. But it wasn't something that Sam really wanted to chance. Too many people had died already. Before their hunting partners caught on to the pointed look Dean was giving him, Sam stepped away from the group and beckoned Dean. 

"Hey, Dean, could I talk to you for a moment?" 

Dean nodded and followed him out of earshot of the others. 

"Sam, it's the only way we can get this thing."

"Dean, I smell like a hunter. It's going to know. Besides, Ron and Jack..." Sam looked at the other hunters and bit his lip nervously. Dean looked back and watched the two argue with their massive trucks behind them flaunting obnoxious sexist bumper stickers about manliness. They really were a walking stereotype on how not to be manly. Sam continued. "And we don't even know if it will fall for the bait thing. I don't exactly look like a helpless virgin." 

Dean seemed to think for a moment, watching their partners. "Okay, we'll do something else."

They turned back to the other hunters to continue brainstorming. The other hunters were proving to be a pain in the ass though.

Sam had stuffed sage in his pocket to hopefully entice the beast to focus on him instead which would protect his younger brother and might have the added bonus of convincing Dean of his virginity. It worked better than he had anticipated. Especially since Ron decided to have the Winchesters draw the griffin out anyways and neglected to tell them. Dean and Sam found themselves cornered by the beast in the abandoned stone quarry that apparently served as its lair. 

"Sammy! I thought you said it wouldn't fall for the virgin thing!" Dean shouted over the griffin's screeches. He blasted it with the shotgun but it only seemed to get angrier. 

"It must be hungry!" Sam stepped to the side, intending to circle around and divide its attention. 

They had disrupted its last feeding and saved the poor nun it had attacked, although Ron had insulted the traumatized woman, which caused Sam to snarl back a defense for her. The argument that followed certainly hadn't left the group of hunters in good rapport with each other. Which obviously created the situation that they were in now. Petty bastards. 

The griffin sniffed and suddenly lunged at him. Sam barely escaped its gaping beak as he stumbled quickly out of range, nearly dropping the crossbow. 

"Sam!" Dean yelled when he saw his older brother fall. 

Crawling backwards, gravel digging into his palms and elbows, Sam tried to aim and get a shot off, but just as he released the trigger, the griffin swiped and tore the weapon out of his hands, sending the silver bolt into the stone. Several shotgun blasts echoed around them, but it seemed to have no affect on the beast as the iron shells just bounced off its feathers and fur like they were made of steel. Sam quickly grabbed his own pistol tucked into his jeans. But as soon as he drew it, the griffin was upon him and batted it away the same way it did the crossbow. It loomed above him, trapping him underneath its body, its taloned legs boxing him in. Sam reached for the silver knife sheathed at his waist but the griffin clawed across his chest and snapped for his throat. Ignoring the sharp pain from the beast's attack, Sam twisted to the side at the last second and the griffin bit the gravel next to his ear. The beast jerked twice, the deafening boom of discharged bullets echoing through the quarry. It slumped on top of him. The weight was pressing down on Sam, aggravating his wounds and drawing up memories best left untouched. The smell of charred flesh and blood flooded his nostrils. Claustrophobia started seeping into his thoughts as unwelcome echoes of the past corrupted his vision. Sam struggled to move the hopefully very dead thing off of him. Dean was suddenly there, shoving the griffin's body away, and Sam felt a wave of relief at seeing his brother's worried but unharmed face. 

"Sam!" Dean dragged him a foot or two from the stinking corpse by gripping his shoulders. Sam breathed deeply in barely suppressed elation that his brother was _there_ , he was _real and alive_ , as Dean knelt next to him. Dean's green eyes were still bright with panic as he assessed his older brother's form, his hands fluttering over his body nervously. Sam knew he looked a mess considering that the thing’s claws had shred both his coat and shirt. Blood from his wounds also painted his skin an unpleasant red. The cuts burned but Sam didn't think they had touched any organs even though they stung horribly and felt deep. He nodded at the unspoken question illuminated in Dean's anxious gaze, still trying to catch his breath through the pain and the left over vestiges of panic. 

"Sam," Dean repeated as his eyes skimmed over the damage again and hesitated briefly on Sam's chest before glancing back to where he assumed Jack and Ron were. Suddenly, Sam realized that his torso _was mostly bare_. Struggling to sit up and somehow find a way to cover himself, Sam was pushed back by Dean to lie down.

"I got you, Sammy." 

Dean glanced back again before shedding his jacket and then his over-shirt. He pressed the shirt over Sam's entire torso. Almost immediately, blood seeped through, clearly marking the path of the griffin's claws. Dean put his jacket back on over his t-shirt just as the two hunters approached. 

"He okay? That thing was faster than I thought." Ron said nonchalantly as he came closer. He clearly did not really care. 

"He's fine. Or he will be. No thanks to you sons of bitches." Dean glared hatefully at the unrepentant man as he applied pressure to the worst of the slashes, causing Sam to grimace, grab on to Dean’s arm and squeeze his eyes shut for a moment. The hunter raised one hand in a placating gesture, the other hand still holding a sniper rifle. 

"Hey, it's not my fault he got hurt. He should have fought the thing off before it got to him. He had a crossbow." 

"Yeah? Well, you could have told us that we were bait. Or that iron doesn’t work." Dean shot back. "Leaving us without that information makes it _your fault_ that my brother got hurt so get the hell away."

"Ron's fault? Ha, you just can't stand the thought that you weren't strong enough to fight it off." Jack scoffed. 

"I didn't see you down here, fighting the griffin. You were safe, high and dry, away from the action. How's that for manly?" Dean's voice was becoming deeper as he grew angrier. Thankfully, he didn't press harder in his anger. "What? Facing the beast too scary for you?" 

Sam cut in before either of the now red-faced older men could retaliate to Dean's challenge. 

"For God's sake! Get rid of the griffin and leave me and my brother alone." Sam said, his voice cracking and higher than normal with pain, but still sufficiently exasperated to shut them up. They slunk away and Sam could hear them drag the body across the gravel. 

"Come on, Sammy," Dean patted his shoulder and moved to help him to his feet. His voice was still deep but much gentler. "Let's get you to the motel. We can stitch you up there."

Sam gripped the bottom of Dean's leather jacket with one hand, as he was semi-propped up against Dean. His head rested against his younger brother's chest with Dean's arm curled protective around to clutch his hip, unable to touch his torso until he was sure of the damage. Sam wrapped his own arms around himself, having no issue with causing himself pain to make sure he stayed covered. Dean managed to get Sam to his feet, although he swayed a little with blood loss and the sudden change in altitude.

"That would have been so much easier if you weren't taller than me, Sasquatch." Dean quipped. When Dean tried to guide him to the Impala, Sam shooed him away to send him to grab the thrown weapons. Sam still clutched Dean's shirt to him as a way to put pressure on the wounds and hide his clearly different body features as he made the trek to the waiting car. Concentrating on breathing lightly to try to not expand his rib cage and move his wounds, Sam nearly bumped into the two hunters getting supplies from their trucks to burn the corpse. Ron briefly assessed the injured hunter before dismissively heading back toward the body. Jack watched Sam more closely as he shuffled toward the open passenger door of the Impala.

"What's up with you?" He challenged. Sam felt tired. Oh so tired. Why can't they leave him alone? 

"You look like one of 'em virgins. Holding his shirt like that. Wait, you lovers? Huh? You've gotta be kidding me! God, you're a bunch of fucking fairies! Shoulda known that by how much you stare at each other."

Rage suddenly gripped Sam. He glared at the offensive man, spitting his words out. "We're brothers, you illiterate bastard!"

The man just snorted. "You a virgin then?"

Sam clenched his teeth. He better not deny it. As much as he wanted to give this homophobic douchbag a piece of his mind, he was losing blood and time. 

"Oh, fuck me. You are one, aren't you?" 

Turning his back to the guffawing dickface, he neared the Impala. Thankfully, he made it to the passenger seat of the car without help but had to exert effort to not pass out. Luckily, by the time Dean climbed into the driver side, Sam had gotten his breathing under control and Jack was busy helping Ron burn the corpse. Dean drove too fast to the motel and this time wouldn't be slapped away as he helped Sam to the room without the clerk seeing. 

"Dude, it's quicker." Was his explanation as he helped him over the threshold. Finally. Sam sat on his bed as Dean soaked fabric ripped from one of their shirts, preparing to remove the shreds still stuck to the wounds. Peeling the pieces away hurt, causing Sam to grit his teeth and make a strangled noise but he managed to help Dean in the chore before he lost enough blood to start shivering. 

"Dean." His teeth chattering pathetically, half pleading, half worried. 

"It's okay, Sammy. I got you." Dean said again like a mantra. After removing the last of the ruined clothes, leaving Sam naked from the waist up and laying flat on his back, he grabbed their sewing kit specifically for situations like this. Dean tried to thread the needle twice before Sam shakily grasped one of his younger brother's own trembling hands. 

"I'll be fine, Dean." He murmured softly. Dean nodded and wiped away more of the blood before finally threading the needle. Handing a bottle of whiskey to his older brother, Dean got to work, stitching neat lines across the flat plane of Sam's stomach. Sam's face was frozen into a pale mask of clenched teeth, refusing to even flinch when the needle continuously pierced his abused skin. When he was done with that gash, Dean snatched the bottle from his brother's hands and gulped his own mouthful. Letting it burn away his fear and apprehension before continuing on the deeper cuts higher on Sam's torso. By the time Dean finished, Sam had finally passed out from blood loss and hopefully booze. Dean drank another mouthful of whiskey then poured the rest of it on the organized rows of stitches. They sizzled a little but Sam didn't even twitch. Mopping the mess of blood and alcohol from his older brother's skin with a spare shred of fabric before throwing it in the direction of the bathroom, Dean tugged Sam higher up the bed to rest his head on the pillow, then covered him with a sheet. Exhausted, Dean collapsed in the next bed, kicking his boots and jeans off in one motion and shimmying under the sheets. He hated seeing Sam so hurt. Hated seeing him shut down emotionally whenever he was in pain. Hated still having to be reassured by him when his older brother was the one in danger. Manliness. Ha! Sam was manlier than any of those fuckers. And he doesn't even have balls. Anatomy obviously had nothing to do with it. Sam had out manned all of them today, without even killing anything. Only his brother could stay completely silent while being stitched together. Dean soon fell asleep watching his brother's sleeping form across from him. 

In the morning, Dean woke up to the smell of greasy breakfast sandwiches. He quickly sat up looking for Sam after catching sight of the other spotlessly made bed. Dean looked around the room. The bloody rags were gone and everything looked ten times cleaner than last night with their non-ruined clothes no longer scattered across the floor and boots by the door. He spotted Sam across the room sitting stiffly at his laptop, his hair still wet from a recent shower, probably his second if the food meant he left earlier. He hadn't yet put on a shirt but clean bandages had been wrapped and taped around his entire torso, leaving only his shoulders bare. Dean swore inwardly. He forgot to do the bandages last night. Sam never would have forgotten. Then again, Dad had never used the bandages often. Sam had always yelled at him for that. Always saying that their dad was leaving himself open to infection and that he should take better care of himself. Funny how Sam's arguments always had logic on his side. He should have become a lawyer. 

Dean rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before getting out of bed and reaching for where he had kicked his jeans. Oh, right. Sam had put them away. Slight irritation buzzed through him. Did he have to clean up everything? It was so obsessive. He trudged over to his duffle and dragged out a pair to put on. Obsessive... Dean turned to look at his older brother. He knew Sam could be so OCD sometimes but could it be something else? Dean assessed Sam's form. His broad shoulders were muscular like a swimmer's but not quite enough to be a guy's. His muscles had never been extremely bulky. Well he was definitely muscular, but in a lithe or defined way. Like Dean could see the definitions of the muscles in Sam's arms but they weren't bulging. His brother was compact. Usually, he hid his form in layers of clothing so no one could really notice the lack of masculine bulk and he could feel more himself. Sam's broad shoulders tapered to skinny hips with almost no noticeable curve even with only bandages covering his skin except the curve of his tiny toned ass in those sweats. Damn, he wished he had an ass like that. He knew Sam had to work especially hard to get that form. He was usually running or doing other strength exercises in their time off. And when they spent long drives in the car, he sometimes complained to Dean that his ass was getting flabby from sitting. That was slightly obsessive. But that was necessary to be in top shape for hunting since Dad had always stressed that Sam’s biology required more work to be at the fitness required for their job. So maybe it's just Sam being dedicated to not getting them killed. The cleaning thing might just be a part of that somehow. Who knew what went on in that nerdy head of his anyways. Dean shrugged and pulled on his jeans. 

He headed straight for the food, grabbing a bag and opening it before sitting across from Sam. 

"Aw, hell yes!" Dean grinned. At Sam's raised eyebrows over the laptop screen, he explained, holding up the greasy sandwich. "Dude, bacon!" 

Sam rolled his eyes with a smile and went back to typing. Dean moaned explicitly as he took a bite, looking to get a reaction, but there was no response from Sam. Dean looked around the table. Sam's sandwich apparently was already eaten, the empty bag the only evidence. Dean leaned forward tilting his head to read the black sharpie written across it. 

"Veggie omelet? Really? You and your rabbit food." 

Sam ignored him, still typing away. Dean took the chance to study Sam some more while eating his bacon and cheese. The bandages seemed to be wrapped adequately and blood wasn't leaking through. The slightest swells of his minuscule breasts above the bandages were the only indication of the anatomy he was born with. Even with this, it appeared that he merely had well developed pectoral muscles. Dean tried to imagine Sam with more chest like the girls he sometimes slept with. He couldn't. It just wasn't Sam. Sam was a guy. He guessed that yeah, Sam could be considered attractive in an androgynous way. He had a strong jaw, smooth soft skin, a straight nose that was slightly upturned, thin but shapely pink lips, unplucked eyebrows, and high cheek bones. With his shaggy hair that shaded his eyes, he looked more like some college boy than a full-grown man. No wonder so many people mistook Sam for Dean and vice versa. Dean probably looked older with his stubble and more filled out muscular figure regardless of Sam's height. God, he hated that Sam was taller than him. Weren't female bodies supposed to be smaller? He guessed that Sam was just freaky like that. He probably willed himself to grow to match his true self. Dean mused briefly if it was weird that he was even thinking about this. Eh, they were brothers. Anyways, as far as he could tell, Sam was asexual. Finishing his sandwich, he rolled up the wrapper and shot it into the trashcan, punching the air when it made it in. 

"So what's on tap for today?" Dean asked, missing the smirk at his antics on Sam's face behind his laptop. 

"Uhh, well, we should probably swing by the quarry again to make sure that the griffin wasn't protecting any hatchlings. Then there's -"

"Wait. Hatchlings? Do you mean babies?" Dean looked both horrified and incredulous. But more horrified. Sam rolled his eyes. 

"Yes, Dean, baby griffins." Dean made a gagging motion. "Anyways, We have no idea if the griffin was male or female, or even if it has a mate. So we have to make sure that we managed to get all of them." Sam explained.

"Okay, but we are not going with those guys again." Dean said, his voice suddenly deep with authority and anger. Sam's mouth twitched up into a tiny smile. It was amusing how protective Dean was sometimes. No wonder a lot of people assumed Dean was older. He was much more vocal about worrying and definitely the driving force of the pair. He was right though; those hunters only cared about themselves. It was too dangerous to team up with them again if they didn't care enough to properly protect their partners or put aside their squabbles. 

After finishing their morning routine, the brothers packed and left the motel. There was no sign of the other hunters at the site of their fight so they simply searched the quarry caves. Finding nothing other than some gold treasure that Dean ended up stuffing in his jacket, they headed out in the Impala to visit Bobby and pawn the stuff off in the next town. All in all, other than the nasty scars that will sure develop from the griffin's claws, it was a decent hunt. Dean was happy with the extra money and unharmed. His little brother was alive. So it was a good hunt.


End file.
